


Watching

by Wagnetic



Category: due South
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 04:02:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wagnetic/pseuds/Wagnetic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser is watching Ray instead of the game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watching

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vickitub](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Vickitub).



Despite a long, trying day, tonight is turning out to be quite pleasant. They go to Ray’s apartment to watch hockey and eat pineapple pizza, which Fraser is becoming rather too fond of, truth be told. Of course Ray insists on feeding a piece to Diefenbaker, but at least it's only one this time and Fraser can’t bring himself to feel much irritation about it anyway. He’s watching as Ray’s charming (if smug) smile deepens the lines around his eyes. Ray is sprawling out on the couch with his limbs flung out wide, and if Fraser’s eyes stray to Ray’s open legs, well at least he drags his gaze away after just a second or two. Fraser is becoming rather too fond of Ray himself, not just his preferred dinner options.

Really, the urge to watch the movement of Ray’s body instead of the Leafs’ admirable performance is the least of his worries. More and more he finds himself imagining a world in which he wouldn’t have to return to the consulate at the end of the night. He imagines falling asleep in Ray’s bed, listening to the sound of his breathing and pressed so close against his body that he can feel its warmth all around him. They’re silly fantasies and nothing more, and yet he can’t seem to put an end to them.

Well, it won’t do him any good to sit on Ray’s couch visualizing something he cannot have. He shifts, about to make his excuses, and then he notices that Ray’s come closer while his mind has been occupied. Ray is sitting very close indeed, and no wonder Fraser could feel his body heat so vividly in his imaginings. And Ray is watching him.

“I’m sorry,” Fraser says, but he can’t find anything to say beyond the apology.

“What have you got to be sorry for, Frase?” Ray’s smile has grown sharp, and the sight of it sends a shock of cold dread through Fraser’s body. Ray knows. He must know. Fraser’s given himself away and he has no way to salvage the situation because he can’t think of anything to say. He has no explanations to hide behind, no “standard procedures” or clever evasions. He’s utterly frozen.

“Frase?” Ray asks, and his voice is turning a bit unsteady but he rallies and says Fraser’s name again with more confidence. “Fraser. You haven’t been watching the game at all, have you?”

“No.” It’s too late to lie about it now.

“You’ve been watching me,” Ray says, and the smugness is creeping back into his smile.

“Yes.”

Finally Ray takes pity on him. He rests a hand on the back of Fraser’s neck, drawing him closer. “It’s ok, Frase. I know you’ve been watching me because I’ve been watching you right back.”

From his spot next to the couch, Dief grumbles something sarcastic and a bit crude, but Fraser doesn’t care because Ray is kissing him. It’s not a hesitant kiss by any means, but it’s soft and sweet and reassuring. It’s just like Ray to tease him and force him into a confession, and just like Ray to treat him with such tenderness after. Such a mercurial man, his Ray. _His_ Ray.

Fraser breaks the kiss abruptly and finds himself blurting, “May I stay?” It’s too soon to make such impositions, he thinks frantically, but Ray just cards his wonderful fingers through Fraser’s hair and says, “Yeah. You can stay as long as you want, Ben.” It’s too much to bear, hearing Ray call him by this affectionate diminutive of his given name, and Fraser has to kiss him again.

Diefenbaker snorts and whines, and Fraser gives him a stern look. “Firstly, this is not your house and you have no right to dictate who stays in which room. Secondly, the use of such immature vernacular doesn’t suit you.”

Ray huffs out a laugh, the one he saves for Fraser’s more unusual antics. “What’s he say?”

“He told us to ‘get a room.’ Honestly, I don’t know where he picks these things up.”

“I don’t know,” Ray says. “It sounds like a pretty good idea to me.”  


That night Fraser drifts off to the sound of light snoring, held in place by Ray’s arms wound around him and Ray’s leg thrown over his, and it’s far better than any of his imaginings.


End file.
